For Paracelsus
Your name lauds sleep, poison
apple embedded in a crush
of saffron, pearl, musk.
Who was deficient, who
abundant, who lost
the measuring cup?
Fractal, my heart, translated
to treble, ten-thousand
wefts of wool. Wherein
lax equals not failing,
whereout force is not
absent blessing. Waltz
with me, under the Cold
Moon, pitched low
on the threshold’s narrow
edge. Carry me home, mother
road. Road choked with salt.
Road blue with fescue.
Lissa Kiernan is the author of Two Faint Lines in the Violet, (Negative Capability Press, 2014), a Foreword Reviews’ 2014 INDIEFAB Book of the Year Award Finalist. She lives in the Catskills with her husband Chris and a fluctuating number of felines.
Kim Peter Kovac tells stories on stages as producer of new plays, and tells stories in writing with lineated poems, prose poems, creative non-fiction, flash fiction, haiku, haibun, twitter poems and microfiction. He lives in Alexandria, VA, with his bride, two Maine Coon cats, and a Tibetan Terrier named Finn.
